So the next question is this: When the Warriors finally do get healthy enough to stop complaining about all the injuries they have, who goes to Monta Ellis and says, "OK, we need you to stop shooting 30 times a game"?

Now we understand why he and Corey Maggette are carrying so much of the shooting and playing burden - they are the two best players on the Bakersfield Jam North. They ought to be playing the most minutes and taking the most shots.

But the funny thing about the green light is that once it's lit, it can't be extinguished. Players like to shoot, will shoot as many times as they're allowed, and they'll rebel when the light turns yellow again.

Or do you not remember how Latrell Sprewell went from defensive specialist to go-to guy, and how the result helped undo the Warriors in the '90s?

Sprewell was drafted in 1992 largely on the strength of his defensive work at Alabama. His college numbers and skill-set did not suggest anything else, and because the Warriors already had plenty of shooters, a strong defender as the second guard seemed like just the thing, especially since Mitch Richmond hadn't been adequately replaced.

Yes, a player with NBA-level defensive skills - a mistake Don Nelson apparently has vowed never to make again.

Only Sprewell took to shooting his share of shots as a rookie, and when Tim Hardaway blew out his knee, Sprewell took initiative. In his second year, his minutes rose by eight per game to 43, and his shots by five per game, to 17. The team's win total went from 34 to 50, and Sprewell naturally assumed his control of the offense was the reason.

Thus, when Hardaway returned assuming that the pecking order would return to its former state, he and Sprewell stopped co-existing, and the team went to 26 wins, then to 36, then to 30, then to P.J. Carlesimo's necktie. Sprewell remained the dominant offensive figure until he snapped off the rails over what, interestingly enough, was criticism of a pass in practice from Carlesimo, whom he had long before learned to dislike on a molecular level.

This is not to suggest that Ellis has Sprewell's difficulty with authority (although he and Nelson are hardly simpatico). History is not a surefire predictor of anything, despite the way history seems to be on a tape loop in Oakland.

But Ellis has missed only 29 minutes in the past 13 games, and averaged 26.2 shots in those games, and while those numbers may dip tonight against the New Jersey Nets, the team that perfected garbage time, the fact remains that Ellis clearly has the greenest light since Dominique Wilkins roamed the earth.

And Maggette? Well, shooting is pretty much what he does in all situations, so this applies less to him.

This is obviously not the most efficient way to run a team, as the indifferent results help explain, and as soon as the Warriors can reassemble theirs, one can only presume that Nelson will want the shot distribution to widen. The question becomes whether Ellis and Maggette will see the wisdom in giving the ball to those who aren't their equals in a season that was lost even before it became a tryout camp.

So far, Ellis has been exceedingly malleable in the wake of Stephen Jackson's cry of freedom, although he is good at keeping his own counsel and surely notices that the former captain has found a glorious new address in Charlotte. And just because Ellis says the right things, they don't preclude him from thinking other right things, like "I'll hold my tongue, but only because I still want the Stack Jack deal."

And that, kids, is why Ellis' free rein not only won't be enough to get him in the All-Star Game (see Comrade Simmons' story above for further elucidation), it has the very real chance of becoming another patented Warrior boomerang. This isn't his road to superstardom - his accuracy diminishes as his volume increases - but a shooter shoots, and is hard to convince when the topic is shooting less.

Which is just the example Sprewell showed us back when the good times started to go bad. At least now, the times already have reached bad, and there isn't a lot of room for worse.